


Pansy Longbottom and the Problematic Seating Plan

by FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And yes it's Pansy Longbottom now, F/M, Idiots in Love, This is a bit of a crackfic tbh I was at my wit's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse/pseuds/FrankieFrancesFrancis_badcouldbeverse
Summary: Let it be known that Hermione Granger-Weasley, aged 45, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class and the current title-holder of the “Brightest Witch of Her Age” epithet, has never been afraid of Draco Malfoy.For her current predicament, she has Pansy Longbottom to blame.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58
Collections: Dramione Valentine Exchange





	Pansy Longbottom and the Problematic Seating Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiwi05622](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi05622/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneValentineExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneValentineExchange) collection. 



> *unbetad and unalphad, this is a bit of a crackfic tbh 😅* Thank you for the prompt, kiwi05622!  
>   
>  **Prompt:** The moment you go from friend to lover  
> 

Let it be known that Hermione Granger-Weasley, aged 45, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class and the current title-holder of the “Brightest Witch of Her Age” epithet, has never been afraid of Draco Malfoy.

Not when he was a poncy sneering little boy lobbing foul names at her in the school grounds, who crumbled before the fist she swung in the general direction of his pointy nose.

Not even when he’d let the Deatheaters into Hogwarts, that frail teen, barely a wisp of a man, really, who looked the entire year like he was a few eyebags away from falling asleep face-first into his Potions cauldron.

She was not afraid of him when she’d writhed and bled on his carpeted floor, for goodness’s sake.

She's not about to start being afraid of him now.

For her current predicament, she has Pansy Longbottom to blame. Yes, definitely, this is Pansy’s fault. Pansy, Hermione must admit, has otherwise done a fantastic job with the wedding. The ceremony itself left no eyes dry, the flowers and food were tasteful and locally sourced, and even the ice peacock sculptural centerpieces Pansy charmed to fan about were not as ridiculous as Hermione had first imagined.

How, then, did Pansy get the seating plan so wrong? The bloody seating plan that put Hermione Granger-Weasley and Draco Malfoy next to each other at the tail end of the head table, which means that as they watch Scorpius and Rose begin their first dance as a married couple, Hermione can’t pretend that she didn’t hear Draco say, “They look like us, don’t they?” 

It doesn’t help that he looks to her after he says this, as if expecting an answer, as if he doesn't know what a rhetorical question is, this Draco Malfoy, aged 44, still with the straw-coloured hair except for the encroaching silver at his temples, this Draco Malfoy and his grey eyes behind his glasses.

So, yes, for the record: Hermione is not afraid of him. Never has been.

But her heart gives a curious little stutter whenever he looks at her, as he does now. 

Hermione whips her face away to focus on their children once more. The waltz ends, and the band begins a faster number.

“Anybody can see Scorpius is the spitting image of you.” She squints. “Except his eyes are a different colour.”

“Your daughter has your amber eyes,” he says. “Rose looks just like you, too. I remember when you were her age.”

He’s looking at her with those deep grey eyes, again. Merlin, it’s distracting. What is with her pulse? Something’s wrong with her stomach. She should excuse herself.

“Rose and I look nothing alike. Her hair’s reddish. And mine’s plain brown.” She feels like fidgeting in her seat. “Though nowadays it’s more grey than brown.”

His eyes don’t leave her. “You look just as beautiful now as you did when you were younger.”  
  
“You also look”—Merlin, what is happening, did he say what she thinks he said—“nice. It’s all nice. Nice wedding. I should go find Pansy, tell her she did a great job.” She scans about the room.  
  
“Trust me, at the price she charges, she knows. Though I hope she gave Scorpius the family discount.”

"How big was that family discount?" She asks. Draco offers to pour her more champagne and she relents, finding herself mysteriously parched whenever she's near him. Best not to waste this good champagne anyway, she thinks, holding out her glass. "Honestly, I’m so impressed Rose and Scorpius saved up to afford this wedding."

"Those two both have good heads on their shoulders."

"We managed to raise two swots." She gives a conspiratorial smirk at the grin on his face, then says sotto voce, "Rose told me you offered to pay all expenses.”

“I did, but I could see how important it was for them to have full control of the wedding. I think I understand. Not that I would have interfered in any way, had I paid for it.”

She smiles at him, put at ease by his generosity. “When they started dating, I thought maybe they had not been serious enough to concern you. But I thought it might matter once they talked of marriage.”

“Merlin, no. I would never stand in the way of my son’s happiness.”

“And you don’t mind that this is where your pureblood lineage ends?”

He shook his head. “If anything, I envy him. If only I had the same chances he did.”

She is not going to probe what he means by that exactly.

He leans closer and says, “Just between you and me, I’m looking forward to seeing grandchildren already.”

She laughs. She knows Rose and Scorpius would prefer to delay parenthood in favour of other pursuits, so Draco will be disappointed for a while. But she sees the appeal of being a grandmother. You know what would be funny? A grandchild with Malfoy's delicate features with her riotous brown hair. Just imagine! A Granger-y Malfoy!  
  
She wonders how Draco imagines their future grandchildren when the dancefloor distracts her. Several people start cheering and whistling. More people join Rose and Scorpius. The band starts playing another slow song. 

“Is that—Myron Wagtail? From the Weird Sisters?”

Draco nods. “He’s a family friend.”

"I haven't listened to any Weird Sisters songs since the 90s.”

“It's been over two decades, but only seems like yesterday, doesn’t it?” 

“I know this song, I think.” She listens to the first few bars, and then hums along. “It’s one of the songs they played at the Yule Ball.”

“Yes, one of their hits from _I Put A Spell On Boo_. But a slow version, perfect for dancing. What do you say?”

What?

He’s holding out his hand.

Hermione doesn’t quite understand why, but she places her palms on his. 

Her breathing isn't quite right. On the dance floor she feels his hand on her waist and a nervous exhale comes out of her, humiliatingly like a giggle. 

His eyes are trained on hers and her heart lurches forward. She leans in to hide her face, placing her cheek against his chest. And that’s when she hears it. A mirror clamoring. His heart, tremulous, going a million miles a minute. She smiles. 

What do you know, Draco Malfoy is afraid of her too.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome! I tumble as [badcouldbeverse](https://badcouldbeverse.tumblr.com/).


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